


Mask of Confliction

by arochilton



Category: Hannibal (TV)
Genre: Hallucination!Hannibal, M/M, Smut, Will Graham is an angsty little shit, Will has mixed feelings about our favorite cannibal, but we love him, don't we all tbh, handjobs, i kinda just wanted to write something before we all die on friday, prison fic, probably just a oneshot
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-02-26
Updated: 2014-02-26
Packaged: 2018-01-13 20:25:14
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,647
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1239655
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/arochilton/pseuds/arochilton
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Will's hallucinations may be starting to take a less graphic form, but when Hannibal pops up in one such state of unconsciousness, Will realizes just how confused his emotions for his psychiatrist are.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Mask of Confliction

Will Graham is stretched out on the tarnished cot in his cell, hands resting under his head. His eyes stare up at the ceiling. Things go in and out of focus as he attempts to keep his breathing steady. In, out, in, out. Breathing is the only thing he can trust himself to focus on. Anything else and the consequences are not beneficial.

That’s the thing about confinement, unfortunately. Being locked up indefinitely gives the mind far too much time to wander.

Will cannot bear to think. His thoughts echo around his skull with a heavy ringing. The voice in his head sounds like Hannibal Lecter. Even the name leaves a bad taste in his mouth.

 _Liar_. _Traitor_. The words float in his mind, bathed in the crisp agony of deceit. Will’s head is pounding but he forces his thoughts aside, steadies his breathing, and closes his eyes. In the back of his mind, he pleads himself to be spared of his psychiatrist for once while inside the confines of sleep.

* * *

 

_Everything seems to be crashing around his head, although he doubts anything is actually moving. Will shivers, not daring to open his eyes. Sometimes it’s easier when he doesn’t have to see where he is; that only makes matters worse._

_“Will,” the voice in his head taunts._

_“Will,” it demands, and all tranquility shatters as Will begrudgingly opens his eyes, unwilling to have the reviled voice protruding his half-conscious mind._

_Will is unable to comprehend what he is seeing. He shakes his head, blinking rapidly. This can’t be real, he tells himself. But it is._

_It’s not just a voice. Dr. Lecter, absent from Will’s hell-filled life for the past several weeks, is standing next to his cot, looming over him in the shadows, wearing a horror inducing smirk. A crisp, well-fitting, characteristically suave suit frames the doctor’s lean body. His hair is parted and combed nicely to the side._

_Will sits up rapidly, seething with everything in him. “Who let you in here?” he attempts to scream, but his voice breaks and falters._

_He knows, somewhere inside him, that this has to be a hallucination. Just because he hasn’t envisioned a particular situation like this before doesn’t mean that it is not plausible. However, that does not stop his entire body from shaking. The impact of just what this man has done to him hits him full on. Will can’t help but bare his teeth, lips curled in a repulsed silent hiss._

_“Now, now, William, is that any way to greet your old friend?” Dr. Lecter leers down at him, replicating Will’s face by pulling his lips back, revealing fang-like teeth._

_“You’re not my friend,” Will spits back without any hesitation. “A friend wouldn’t have done this to me.”_

_“Well, then,”  Lecter’s face goes lax, squinting at Will._

_A silence ensues for several minutes, Will staring down at his feet, working on slowing down his breathing. He wants to wake up from this, but he can’t force it on himself. His unconscious mind continues to project the image of his detested doctor despite his pleas for it to stop._

_“Do you miss me, Will?” the psychiatrist asks._

_No response._

_“Do you think of me while you’re in here?”_

_Will takes in a shaky breath. “How could I not? You did this to me. The voice in my head sounds like you.”_

_Dr. Lecter only smiles, and Will would like nothing more than to wipe that stupid smirk off his lying mouth._

_“What do you do in here to pass the time, Will?” Dr. Lecter leans in close to Will’s ear. He tries to back away but the back of his head collides with the wall, and a resounding pain spurts through his head. The doctor doesn’t react. “I know you’re not fond of human contact, but four weeks, my goodness. You must ache for it.”_

_If he’s asking what Will believes him to be implying, he’s doing it in a devious way. This is all one of his manipulation games. It’s not real._

_“Do you imagine being touched, Will?”_

_Will doesn’t see the point of lying inside a hallucination, so he nods lightly._

_“By whom, if I may be so bold as to inquire?”_

_Will doesn’t respond._

_“Let me guess,” Dr. Lecter sneers. “Alana Bloom?” the name is cold off his lips, for a reason of which Will isn’t sure._

_Truthfully, Will shakes his head no. Yes, he’s thought of Alana, but not in the way Lecter is suggesting. Ever since she came to visit him, there was no denying that their faltering relationship could not ever be stable._

_Dr. Lecter seems surprised but faintly pleased. “Do tell,” he chides._

_Will continues staring down at the ground. His heart is pounding hard. Since this projection of Lecter is one of his subconscious, it must already know his answers, but he is still too discomforted to make any response._

_The truth is that, although hatred is the primary emotion he has towards his doctor, old habits are hard to break. His mind doesn’t just wander to the man; it is dominated by him. Despite all the hate-filled thoughts, a special spare few do sneak in unwanted. And he will admit that, no matter what, he misses his doctor’s strong hands steadying him, keeping him sane._

_“You think of me, don’t you, Will?” He feels Lecter’s lips brush his ear lightly as he leans in close. “In the confines of solitude, when hating me gets so tiresome, do you long for my touch?”_

_Will doesn’t answer, but his rapidly increased breathing is enough indication._

_“What do you want from me, Will?” Dr. Lecter asks tauntingly. Will’s breath catches in his throat and he closes his eyes, imagining the doctor’s lips pressed to his. He isn’t even entirely sure why these thoughts still haunt him, but he can’t let them go, especially when the clear image of Lecter is teasing him._

_He feels pressure on his mouth, and when he opens his eyes, he finds that the doctor has mimicked the scenario he was just playing out in his head. Will stiffens, body taut but lips light on Lecter’s. When the older man pulls off, Will lets out a soft moan._

_“My, my,” Lecter straightens up, tilting his head to one side. Will is certain that this hallucination’s only means is to torture him. He lets it. Lecter’s lips twitch. “My dear Will, where do you want my touch?”_

_Will’s entire body is shaking noticeably but he can’t bear to answer. He lets the doctor guess._

_“Do you want my hands brushing along your skin? Trailing down your neck, removing your shirt ever so carefully, tracing along your chest? Pressing myself into you, my pelvis grinding into yours as I bite your neck lightly-”_

_He stops at the sight of movement. Will’s hands had very quickly moved to fold over his crotch, but not before Dr. Lecter could notice the beginnings of Will’s arousal tenting his jumpsuit. He smirks, satisfied, and continues._

_“I see you shaking now, Will. Should that cease on its own, or shall I do something about it? I can calm it with just a well-placed kiss, a gentle touch of my mouth and a brush of tongue.”_

_His legs are spread out now, unable to resist. He jerks back on the cot, his entire body seething with stimulation. “Dr. Lecter-” he starts._

_The doctor drops to his knees, looking up at Will teasingly. His hands catch in the zipper and tug it down. Will’s head falls back against the wall. He feels Lecter’s hot breath hovering over him, careening him towards becoming achingly hard. The doctor pulls Will’s underwear down just enough to provide him access._

_He closes his eyes, feeling strong hands stroking him. He’s fidgeting violently, rocking his hips and crying out._

_And then it shatters._

* * *

 

It’s as if Will is alive in two worlds.

He hears a voice from reality. It’ sharp, attention-grabbing.

“Will,”

_In his mind, Lecter is still palming him and teasing him. He’s almost reaching his limit. His moans echo in his ears. His cock surges._

_“Will,”_

He wills himself to wake up, but he can’t. The voice speaks again.

“Will,”

_His eyes are screwed shut, his breathing rapid, his mind unclear._

_“Come for me, Will,”_

_He does._

“William.”

* * *

 

Will jolts awake, sweaty and shaky, opening his eyes at long last. He sits up, his head on fire, and looks to see the real life Dr. Lecter standing outside his prison cell. At long last, he’s come to pay him a visit.

“Some dream you must have been having, Will,” Dr. Lecter muses. “You were jolting and making the most wanton noises.”

Will chews on his bottom lip, not daring to stand.

Lecter sniffs the air. All too unfortunately, Will remembers the doctor’s keen sense of smell.

 _Damn_.

“Oh, _Will_ ,” his mouth twists into a devilish grin. Will froths with hatred. This is no hallucination of his psychiatrist. This is the real man. There are no affectionate displays of fondness. There are only lies and hatred. And despite his mixed feelings, he desires nothing more than for Lecter to be the one locked up while Will looks in on him.

Will stands and walks to the bars, leering at Dr. Lecter.

Lecter reaches through the bars, touching Will’s face carefully. “Will, it is not uncommon to be unable to control desires while in solitude. There is no reason to feel-”

“Go to hell.”

Before he knows what he is doing, the disgust fills Will to the brim and he bites Lecter’s hand hard, teeth sinking in, the metallic taste of blood flooding his mouth. He backs away like a startled deer, mouth dripping and eyes glaring.

Guards. Yelling. Handcuffs.

None of what awaits him, however, is more narrowing or disconcerting than a mask being wrestled onto his face.

**Author's Note:**

> Wow okay. I truly just kind of threw this together because I really felt like writing some Hannigram before everything goes to shit and we watch it all burn in season 2.  
> That mask though.  
> Thanks for reading, darlings.
> 
> http://damnhannibal.tumblr.com/


End file.
